American Ritual

by Claim Culture

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The bending branches on the fir mean the devil can’t keep his hands off. There will be a dove at the eye, let language bless you blind. Heaven’s tomb is draped in threes by a passive hand. The language games comatose lay hands for me. They lip the wind, the world I’ll intend. I’d lie just above the vowels, a heavenly body, I may grow fond of this soil. A breathing pulse for this cold body. The same name can mean two different things. A single breath spinning and spinning. The same words can mean two different things.
Sadin I 05:51
A quaalude mainline and servitude to a feeling. An anemic fix, a grasp around the wrist. That chemical embrace is our leap of faith, a little handheld god to pass the day. So fetishize your great “get me off” and swallow cancer, collagen fibers' soft. Watch the shawl eclipse the eyes. Watch the shawl eclipse the lives. Overdosed/underwhelmed, a sterile and simple barrel to the temple. A rot that guides us, a "sensus divinitatis." A miscarried god to pass away with. So fetishize your great “get me off” and swallow cancer, collagen fibers' soft. Watch the shawl eclipse the eyes. Watch the shawl eclipse the minds. Parachute my prayers. Parachute my prayers. When response is intravenous, parachute my prayers.
Sadin II 03:52
Somniferum 04:42
If I’m to be a pillar of salt, dancing static in the still. If I’m to be a pillar of salt, in grace I’ll exit the wound. There’s no morphine for the absent. There’s no absence for the genius. And if my spine is to fail, redirect the applause. These sated eyes will always keep you alive.
The kerosene holy water saturated and wine washed lips, no afterlife smut nor elegant bound page will save you. Discharge a tenth to supply nepenthe, lower your head down. A confession: the dust can dance but it too will settle. Old beds that hosted our sleep, those things a waif could reach, did a swear pass the meaning? What prayers were they leaving? An early grin, warm, wrapped in faith will lay me down. Are we born again? Convince yourself the air will change.


American Ritual was written by Claim Culture and recorded between September and November 2014. All instruments, with the exception of saxophone, were tracked and mixed by Blake Melton and Claim Culture at Since Sound Studio in Richmond, Virginia. Saxophone tracks were recorded and performed by Peter Sacco in Charlottesville, Virginia. All mastering was done by Magnus Lindberg [Productions] of Cult Of Luna in Stockholm, Sweden. Artwork and design direction completed by Claim Culture.


released January 1, 2015

American Ritual features:
Cody Endres | Guitar
Blake Melton | Guitar, vocals, bass
Brent Taylor | Guitar
Alex Wilson | Drums, percussion
Peter Sacco | Saxophone on Sadin II

Special thanks to the Melton family for providing a rehearsal space, studio, recreational facility, and kitchen. Thank you to Raintree, the Layman and Snell families, Shy, Low, Ian Currie, Peter Sacco, Joshua Franklin, Dead End Sons, Henrietta, and to the owners of all the floors we’ve slept on.


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Claim Culture Richmond, Virginia

Mood swing.

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